Statue
by Calil Gadien96
Summary: In the Second Hobbit movie, there is a very important character that does not get the credit he is due.
1. Creation

It would be magnificent. Truly and enormously so. All who entered this hall would look upon him and be amazed. He had watched so closely those who entered the mountain; he had watched how it was that they gawked at the giant gates that lead into the underground kingdom, and he wanted to give them another spectacle to rival all of the rest.

It took a long time to make the prototype. It had to be perfect. Not a single flaw; if the image was impure, the final product would surely be ruined. Then to build the mold. So careful. The calculations had to be exact or the final piece would be out of proportion, and that would bring shame to him and his trade. It would have to be perfect.

His son helped him when he was able. The lad was a father of his own child now. The wee babe was a bright little girl-child who was always getting into things. Not one you would want in the workroom. So his son was rarely there. It mattered not; it would get done. Eventually.

The hardest part would be moving organizing everything correctly. Every piece had to be carved to scale with perfectly smooth curves and sharp corners. Every detail would need to be absolutely perfect. It just had to be. If it was not, there would be no end to the horror.

He looked up from the plans and sighed with contentment. For this, he would be remembered always. Other artists would rise and fade, but he, the creator of this magnificent wonder would be immortal to all who saw it, be they dwarf, man or, may Mahal forbid it, elf. He snorted lightly and returned his gaze thoughtfully to the page. It was progressing nicely.

As he walked through the halls, and saw the blocks being lifted slowly and carefully into place, he felt his heart begin to grow. It was happening. It would be so soon. He remembered when he had been commissioned. By the King himself. The King under The Mountain. There was no greater honor. He raised his chin proudly and walked over to inspect the work, careful not to get in anybody's way and so upset the work. Oh, it was spectacular to behold. Indeed, it looked only like a large column of stone, but soon, oh, so very soon, it would be what it was meant to be!

Magnificent.

The Prince, the son of the King himself would come to watch the ceremony. The King would start the ball rolling, and soon all who entered his Kingdom would look upon it and be amazed. So very soon. It was painfully close to being complete. The craftsman knew not what he would do after it's completion, but for now, that did not matter. As he watched the final stone be settled into place, the last pin placed to keep the mold together, the last dwarf step from the scaffolding, he felt the pain build up in his chest and he felt a tear form in his eye. It was time.


	2. Destruction

Thorin stared at the bodies that were piled on the floor of the guardroom. They had thought, hoped against hope, that there would be an escape. He looked around at the faces. Preserved over time by the dry air and lack of vermin. Dust coated and cobweb covered, they stared with white marbles at wherever their gaze had last landed. Who could know where their thoughts had lead them in their last moments. Maybe it was better to not dwell on it. Leave them in peace, it was all that they had left.

This would not be his fate. It could not be. Nor would it be the fate of his companions. They would not die like this. There was no way he would allow that to happen. Never. He again over the people who lay there, his mind racing. Balin mentioned making for the mines, hiding there for a few days. No. He was Thorin! Son of Thrain son of Thror! He would not cower in a hole and wait for death. He would fight until the very end! Something caught his eye; a little figure, clutched in one dwarf's hand. A dwarf figurine, probably painted gold. Then he knew. He knew what they would do.

They made quickly, in separate groups, to the forges. It was there that they would make their stand. Or at least begin it. He gave a shortened account of his plan to his companions, and divided them into small parties that would allow the dragon to become distracted. When they reached the forges, he turned toward the dragon. 'You have grown fat!' he taunted. 'Slug!' That worked quite well. Too well, maybe. There was only just enough time for the 14 to hide behind pillars to avoid being roasted. But his plan, as crazy as it might have seemed, and still seemed, as the enraged dragon pounded on the large metal wall, had worked. Fires sparked to to life in the forges.

He directed his kin to places in which they would be best suited. Bombur to the bellows, Balin to make flash-flames, Bilbo to the task of the all important lever. And when that lever was pulled, and the water released, and the great wheels turned... Rivers of gold flowed downward, down prepared channels to their destination. Thorin grabbed a wheelbarrow and rode it like a boat down the streams. Calling out for the Hobbit to run, just before going through a tunnel, and leaping from the cart to a chain, and sliding down to land on the large stony structure.

He recalled the day it had been completed. The day they announced when the day of it's filling would be. He remembered the look on the craftsman's face. The utter joy that had filled it. He knew not what had happened to the man. He had not escaped with the rest of Durin's folk that fateful day. He had not been among those who had followed Thorin. He had not been fighting at Khazad Dum. Thorin could imagine him, standing bravely before his creation as the firebreathing creature advanced. He would have stayed to protect his masterpiece, yet unfinished, with his life. The proud dwarf would have been as a small rodent to the immense reptile.

He would have died before his life's work. But now, his spirit would see. The dragon, turning toward the great pile of bolted stone. Thorin gave the word, and with a cry for revenge, the pins were pulled from their sockets, slowly releasing the stone, so carefully and painstakingly bored, carved and piled, to fall to the floor. What it revealed was spectacular. So great that it was beyond the realm of words. The dragon himself was moved by it. He stared into the golden relief that was to have been a monument with wonder. And then the moment shattered.

It would have taken days, maybe even weeks to be sure, for that gold to harden. It had had only a few minutes, and the pressure from the inside was too great for the thin crust to hold. The cheek of the immense figure bulged and broke, molten gold flying into Smaug's face, throwing him backwards. With the barrier broken, the entire statue melted into a wave of metalic heat, washing the beast onto the floor of the Hall of Kings and covering him completely.

But for one moment. One glorious, shining moment, the proud figure had stood tall. Stood over the beast that had cowed it's maker and it had brought joy into the hearts of dwarves, just as it had been intended. Alas, that joy did not last.


	3. Aftermath

They all entered the mountain slowly. For many, this was the first time. They had grown into adulthood on stories of this mountain. For others, it was a long awaited and hardly hoped for homecoming. The old described once more, in hushed tones, to the young what the great gates had looked like, before they had been destroyed by the beast. Others stood in silence, once more mourning those who had fallen. All rejoiced. Their mountain was theirs once more. As they entered, they stopped, staring in shock.

The floor of the Hall of Kings, a great room of tall pillars and wondrous tapestries, was covered in gold. The pillars were also flecked with the precious metal, but the floor of the hall was the most beautiful thing. One dwarf in particular stared at the gold. The moment he saw it, he knew what he would see in the next area. His feet dragging, he walked slowly into the the hall where once there had been a tower of stone.

For where once had been a tower of stone there now was but a pile of rubble, covered in gold. The dwarf dropped to his knees and wept. He wept as he not wept in over one hundred years. It was gone. And there would be no replacing it. His father had worked on this for years. Years and years he had labored over this, his most daring and most ambitious project. And now... It was gone. His father's life's work was gone. It was gone In piles of stone and a floor of gold. A hand on his shoulder woke him from his tear-filled daze. He looked around into the eyes of his daughter. And an older dwarf he barely recognized.

'Balin?' He asked, unsure; it had been so very long since he had seen him.

'Yes, laddie.' Answered the white bearded dwarf, 'There is something I must tell you.'

Nodding mutely, he rose to his feet and followed Balin to the feet of where the statue would have been.

'This is where I stood' the older dwarf began, looking up toward the vaulted ceiling, 'This is where I stood when it came apart. When I saw what it would have been. It was perfect.' And that was all the Balin said before turning and walking away.

'Perfect' he whispered. It had been perfect. He turned to his daughter and all he could do was smile. Gone, but not forgotten.

* * *

Well, that is the end of that! I have been sitting on this since I saw DoS for the 3rd time. Usually try to stay on book verse, but this was too good to pass up. I must say that the second chapter was rather depressing to write... I did not remember more of the quotes form the movie or I would have used them... I fear that this may have been a bit too descriptive. Perhaps you will tell me, dear readers! I hope you enjoyed it, thank you for reading.


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